The City of Roses.
Famously nicknamed after one of their mayors nationalized a parade for the eponymous flower. Flooding the streets with roses and other rosy plants once a year, the city enjoyed being one of the largest cities in its home state.
Irwin stretched his jaws as he closed the Nupedia page for the city, a crappy website that was this world's version of Wikipedia. Just an hour of scrolling through yellow background on white and red text was agony beyond relief, hell beyond measure.
He vowed that the next time he needed information for a specific job, he'll hire one of the paralegal of their firm. Let the Ivy league bastard take the cataracts and not him, he thought. The memories of being a barista at the ripe old age of seventeen and serving near a university still jarred his emotions.
He gazed around the area, noting the slew of the cities' denizens milling about with not a care in the world. Like any other city, the smell of gasoline, hints of urine and blood, and old asphalt pervaded his sensitive nose.
The city had a life of its own, the cogs in its machine, the people that lived and breathed and slept inside of it, running well despite the best efforts of its dark underbelly and the corruption of mankind's enemies.
Tonight… those cogs will face a hitch, a glitch in its inner workings, and he had a feeling it will be because of him.
He turned to his companion, silently enjoying her burger as she sat adjacent to him.
They had stopped halfway into the city proper, finding themselves at a fairly bustling diner on the recommendation of a nearby cop. Cheap but hearty, the police officer remarked.
If he was to be perfectly honest, he used to dine and dash in one of these joints, having lax security and lackadaisical waitresses with no care in the world. He wasn't proud of it, of course, but he had a rough six months and another rougher two weeks.
"How's the food?" He asked, checking his phone for any messages.
"Tasty." She replied, licking the beef out of her lips. "Not as good as Ella's, though."
He hummed as he read through Congressman Brown's report regarding the caller tag that was tracked by the NSA. It had seemed that Gordon had made another call and was traced to Portland's biggest harbor, which was in line with his latest message.
"Be ready. If Gordon's compromised, kill him without hesitation. Your first and foremost job is to obey my command, second is to protect me." He laid down the rules of engagement, his words filled with conviction. "Understand?"
She assented with a nod, before asking with a hint of hesitation. "My collar?"
"I see. Just having it around your neck disrupts your magik." He took out an old iron key from his pocket, having known that he would have to trust her with his life during this mission. " I know you won't try to hurt me, but I do hope that… whatever grudge you have wouldn't interfere with our mission."
"I swear." She replied resolutely, vowing with all her heart.
He nodded, giving her the key and ordering her to remove it in the bathroom. She had worn a shawl over her plaid jacket to hide the fact that she had an iron collar around her neck. Not even Irwin wanted to be labeled as a pervert's lover.
Irwin and a much lighter Charlotte entered the car and drove over to the port district where one of Congressman Brown's men was waiting for them.
Standing over six feet tall, the blonde-haired, tanned man in a dark gray suit looked as though he came out of a test tube from a government facility that creates perfect replicas of a government agent.
The man entered the back seat of the car, making himself comfortable as he took out a manila folder from within his coat jacket.
"Terminal Six. A series of ship containers recently exported from Hawaii… 'Dagonal Enterprise'." He recounted the pertinent information, his voice as gruff and stern as one would expect.
Irwin skimmed the file, noticing how bare the file was and was supplemented by pictures and blueprints of the terminal. He was impressed by how much information and images they could get at such a short notice, now much more interested in Congressman Brown's reach within the government.
"How's the police response?" He asked the man.
The man shrugged. "ten, maybe twelve minutes, depending on the subject of the call. Do you expect a gunfight?"
"Probably not, but maybe a few unexplained loud noises." He replied.
"Then you're good to go. There's going to be a ruckus later in the night. Police will be busy." The man opened the car door and proceeded to leave, but not before giving them a warning. "Just… don't leave any clues behind."
Irwin smirked. "We're good at that."
The man shook his head, closing the car door and walking out of the district, his mutterings only heard by the wind and, of course, Irwin's sensitive ears.
"Goddamn spooks."
Irwin pressed the gas pedal as far as the car could take him inside of the port, turning on streets even he could only guess would take him closer to his destination. Eventually, the road became hazardous for his relatively compact car as large machinery laid the path towards the shipping containers.
Irwin carried a silver briefcase while Charlotte, having more spells in her mind, pulled dark-blue luggage as they traversed the large port.
Their destination soon appeared before their eyes as the logo of Dagonal Enterprise caught their sight. Dozens of their shipping containers were placed in a small cul-de-sac-like alley, arranged in three-story high columns with no other exit in sight.
With a quick glance, he noticed a few things on the ground.
There was crime scene tape around the alley tied to a wooden post clearly taken from somewhere within the port's domain. Two of the columns had an open bottom container, the doors and side panel stained with fresh, still-dripping blood.
Sixteen people milled around the site. Five wore a sleeveless neon jacket, a hard hat, and some clipboard; another seven wore a police officer's uniform with two detectives wearing civilian clothing but had their badged out front; then there were the two workers, clad in blue jumpsuits with the company's logo on their chest, prying open another container.
He quickly took Charlotte to the side, hiding from their sight before they noticed her. "I didn't see Gordon. This must be a trap."
"What's our plan?" Charlotte asked, scanning the surroundings. She bit her lips as she paid special attention to the yellow crane above the containers.
"Looks like you've got one." He said, being familiar with the expression on her face.
"Sort of. Walk into the trap and I'll provide you some back-up. " She gave him a smile, one that expressed her confidence.
"Gotcha." He smiled and walked towards the cul-de-sac, earning the attention of the workers as he had worn a very visible mustard suit.
"Fellas, do you mind if I ask you a question?" He yelled as he hailed them from afar.
"Uh, yeah. You from the port authority?" A person with clipboards approached him.
"No, I'm special agent Cravensworth." He took out his FBI badge, showing off the golden gleam. "I'm looking for a fellow agent of mine. Black, about six foot, mean mug, and even meaner temper."
"Oh, yeah. Said he found your, uh, criminal." He replied, motioning for Irwin to follow him, which he did. "He's in that open container right over there, by the stretcher."
Irwin thanked the man, passing by the other cops and workers and arriving next to the police officer in civilian clothing. He pretended not to notice the brief glances from the crowd, merely relaxing his gait as he prayed Charlotte better have a good plan.
"Agent Cravensworth. Where's one of my men?" He asked curtly.
"Inside." The police officer answered curtly, too.
As he grabbed a hold of the door, barely able to see the dark inside, Irwin could sense the tension within every person around him. Having an inkling that the whole scenario was a trap, he wasn't surprised when he saw nothing but reinforced metal panels on the inside.
He forced the door to reveal the empty contents of the container, turning back to the crowd with a smile on his face.
"My patience… has its limits, my anger more so," He began removing his coat, neatly folding the clothing and dropping it on the ground. Calmly and methodically, unbuttoning the cuffs on his sleeves and folding it up to his elbows before removing his tie and placing it above his coat.
"With that in mind… mind telling me where my partner is?" His question rang silent. The crowd merely readied themselves as they threw away the tapes and barricade that would cause any accidents on their way. "Ï see."
"Before we start, I would like to give you a solid piece of advice." He put his hands up in a boxing stance and taunted them with two fingers.
"Don't hesitate, go for the kill!"